


It's Down to You and Me

by allislaughter



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eldritch, Established Relationship, Inhuman Deacon, M/M, POV Third Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter
Summary: The two of them are after the same thing: change. Change for the Commonwealth, brought about by the Sole Survivor. One of them is after any change, while the other has a loftier goal in mind. Deacon wants Sole to help the Railroad take down the Institute once and for all.
Relationships: Deacon (Fallout)/Mysterious Stranger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Changes

It’s safe to say that the two of them have a similar interest, even if their methods are totally unalike. Their world revolving around Sole— or “Sol” as the case may be. The being at the center of their system, for the time being at least.

One of them is captivated by the prospect of change in the Commonwealth. He takes the approach of aiding from the shadows, arriving in the nick of time to help keep Sole alive long enough for them to do something, regardless of what it may be. A quickdraw before disappearing into the ether.

Him, on the other hand: much more hands on. He defines a place for himself in the Commonwealth, even if that definition changes as often as his faces and is as honest as a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He watches Sole the entire time, carefully plotting his appearances in their voyages until it comes time to meet. Until he’s called upon to follow along, to accomplish a specific goal he thinks is worthwhile, more than the inevitability of generic change. Until he trusts Sole enough to tell them one fundamental truth both he and his counterpart share.

“I’m in your corner. Always have been.”

A deacon is a messenger. Deacon can share that message, and many more, trying to convey how important it is for Sole to make the right choices to try and make the world a bit more just.

A farmer wants for things to grow, and growth begets change. Farmer is willing to stay the silent, mysterious stranger, tending to his “crops” by protecting them from the vermin that might try to steal them from under him.

Sole stops to rest for the night, and Deacon slinks off while they sleep. They’re safe in the arms of another who thinks of them like the sun, even if it’s more of a romantic deference in that regard.

Deacon has his own romantic deference to worry about, as the so-called Mysterious Stranger appears behind him and wraps his arms around him.

“You’re in their corner, hmm?” Farmer asks with a teasing kiss on the back of Deacon’s neck.

“Hey now,” Deacon grins. “I’ve told you before. If there was one truth I’d ever give them, it’s that one.”

“I wouldn’t have admitted it at all,” Farmer adds.

“Nah,” Deacon chuckles. He turns in Farmer’s arms and grabs him by the tie. “You aren’t as handsy as I am, after all. Keeping your distance, hmm? Should I start calling you Pluto?”

“You’re going to burn your wings at this point, Icarus,” Farmer counters.

“They only melting I’m going to do is in your arms tonight and you know it.”

“Very well.” Farmer smiles and leans in. “I may not be as ‘handsy’ when it comes to our Sole, but I can make an exception for you...”

The evening passes with the two of them in each other’s company, ending with them lying together for what Deacon likes to call “Pillow Talk”. Farmer stares into Deacon’s eyes, a rare sight for others but common for him.

“What if the Sole Survivor makes the ‘wrong’ choices,” Farmer says. “If they don’t follow your messages and choose a different path.”

Deacon frowns. “Then you win this one and I start over again.”

“You’re welcome to join my side of things,” Farmer says, stroking Deacon’s cheek. “It’d suit you better. Far less restrictive than these ‘morals’ you have to uphold.”

“I don’t ‘have’ to do anything,” Deacon says. “I want to. You think any of the higher-ups care anymore if any of us make a difference?”

“Then why bother?”

“Because it’s not fair to the people who never asked for this,” Deacon answers. “It’s not fair for the people who have been hurt by this for selfish reasons.”

“The universe has a tendency to be unfair,” Farmer says. “It’s better than the alternative. If these people were hurt because they did deserve it.”

“But they don’t,” Deacon says. “The universe is unfair, but that doesn’t mean I have to be. You and I both know Sole’s going to make big changes.”

“We do.”

“But you don’t know what that change is,” Deacon says. “Maybe I don’t either, but I have to keep hoping it’s the one I’m after. I have to keep trying to guide them that way.”

“Such is the life of a guardian angel,” Farmer chuckles. “If you ever want to ‘fall’, you know how to call on me.”

Deacon grins. “Hey, maybe one day I’ll decide to try on the eldritch look, but I’m not feeling tentacles at the moment.”

“...Is that a request?”

“Surprise me.” Deacon squeaks suddenly and laughs. “Oooookay, you surprised me.”

The morning sun rises, and Deacon’s waiting outside for Sole, a lit cigarette in hand and Farmer long gone. 

Change will come, regardless of what they do.

Deacon at least plans to make it a  _ good _ change.


	2. The Railroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with his long history with the Railroad, Deacon still has room to learn to grow. He just needs the right incentive.

The Railroad was not his idea. Nor was it one he helped encourage the creation of. He wasn’t there at the start of it, and he wouldn’t have joined it if someone hadn’t taken notice of him acting to his own accord.

There had been a wrong he wanted to right. An injustice he saw and didn’t let slide. A human who heard about it, found him, and invited him in. A human long since dead.

Deacon may not have started the Railroad, but he’s done everything he can to keep it running. The fabled John D., the numerous faces, the lies and secrets. Everything for this one cause. It’s worthwhile, after all. It’s what convinced him to be more hands-on. He likes to think sometimes that if the higher-ups still cared that this kind of liberation would be up their alley. But they don’t, so he’s a free agent to decide the morality of this. Or so he likes to pretend.

Synths, created by man or not, ring as people in his books. Always have. Perhaps there’s a bit to contest vis a vis what makes a person, if flesh and bone are needed, or if the budding minds of the earlier gens, often reset before they fully bloom, defines them as people as well. He’ll let Glory convince him one way or another eventually. Philosophical quandaries like that are best left for  _ people _ to decide.  _ People _ define philosophy and morals and what makes a man.

Diogenes was a funny one for that. Deacon wryly thinks that, perhaps, the world wouldn’t have ended in human-created hellfire if plucked chickens were considered fellow men.

But as it is, in lieu of word from his side of things, the morals he can work with depend on the humans around him.

That’s why he stuck with the Railroad for so long. He likes  _ their _ morals. It’s just a matter of following through and convincing others to join as well... And he trusts that Glory can get others to follow her scripture, that she can convince him too that he’s wrong and that  _ all _ synths need to be saved, not just Gen3s.

In the meantime, Deacon has to struggle with the fact that, until he is convinced, maybe he’s in the wrong and needs to change his perspective. Maybe he  _ is _ letting himself be too restricted. It’s a new world. He’s a free agent. Who says he can’t dictate his own decisions on what makes a person?

...The little seed of doubt that, perhaps, he’d be making the wrong choices and risk losing everyone in the Railroad yet again. Sole may have chosen to call themself the Sole Survivor, but Deacon’s lived that role a few times himself. And it’s hard not to get attached when working hands-on with people. He can keep his distance enough that they don’t know a thing about him and who or what he is.

That doesn’t take away that one wrong move and he’ll lose everyone and have to start all over again. That guilt and regret weighs him down more each time.

It’s why he’s taken to gamble all the caps in his pot on Sole being the one to change things for the better. A safe bet, if Farmer’s counting on them to make a big change. It’s been a while since they’ve placed their attention on the same individual, and none the less exciting than the first time.

If Glory can convince Sole that all synths, no exceptions, are people, Deacon will follow. He’ll follow Sole’s word, unless their morals start unaligning with the ones he maintains.

“You know,” Farmer says, setting a drink beside Deacon at his table. “If you were on my side of things, you wouldn’t have to worry about depending on others to choose your morals...”

Deacon grins. “Oh, no hello, dear? No nice to see you, honey? Just jumping straight to insulting my methods?”

“It’s only an insult if you know your methods are wrong.”

Deacon sighs and grabs the bottle. “You got me there. But if I were on  _ your _ side of things, I wouldn’t be worrying about morals at all. You neutral bastard, you.”

Farmer kisses Deacon’s cheek. “You got me there,” he smiles at him before standing straight again. “But, love...” Farmer watches Deacon take a sip of the offered cola. “You seem too attached to someone about to die.”

Deacon chokes, and cola dribbles down his face and onto his unfinished paperwork. “What? Who? Since when are you getting spoilers from Death?”

“Is that not typically the nature of things?” Farmer smiles, catty and unapologetic. “You grow attached, you want to follow their ideals, and they die. That’s the pattern with this Railroad, I’ve noticed.”

“Inevitable setbacks,” Deacon frowns. “It doesn’t mean it happens  _ every _ time...”

“Yes. That’s why Deliverer is still in Tommy Whisper’s hands and not Sole’s.”

Deacon scowls. “Now that’s just downright nasty of you. How would you like it if I made comments about  _ your _ obsession with messing with Valentine?”

Farmer frowns and pulls away. “Perhaps underhanded, but not without reason...”

“Still insensitive as hell.” Deacon finally wipes the soda from his face onto his shirt. “These folks are trying their damndest and dying for it. I don’t need you pointing out my failure to protect them on top of that.”

“Yes,” Farmer says. “So, then. Will your Glory be another failure or a victory...?”

Deacon furrows his brow. He grabs onto the lapels of Farmer’s coat and pulls him down to kiss him and then lets go and smiles, shaky and uncertain. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Farmer smiles back. “I’m not sure I trust you.” He disappears as if he was never there, time unfreezes, and Deacon gets up to go check on Glory. Just in case.

He instead walks into Sole who immediately grabs him by the wrist and drags him to Desdemona and he, sensing the urgency, follows without a word.

Suddenly, everything blurs around him as he fast forwards through the sequence of events. The Brotherhood of Steel knows where HQ is and is on their way to attack. Is already attacking. Dez tells Sole that Glory has gone on ahead to secure their passage to escape. Sole and Deacon make it to Glory, already injured and dying and having her last words with Sole.

Farmer knew this would happen. And Deacon is helpless to stop it. Farmer was right: the people Deacon grows attached to die, and this is just another one of his failures...

...But not Sole’s.

They yell at him, an emphatic “God willing, Deacon, help me here!”

The gods aren’t willing, but the sting of those words ring like a musical cue, and Deacon stops standing around and crouches beside Sole and Glory, and follows Sole’s orders.

It’s a mess of blood and questionable medicine— Deacon doesn’t like the look of that “mystery serum” that he had no clue Sole had on them— But Glory is stable and healing.

“We’ll be right back,” Sole promises, hands held tight around Glory before they finally let go and lead Deacon through the final stretch of blur taking down the rest of the Brotherhood in their way.

In the breathing room to follow, making plans what to do next, figuring out what happened, and of course making sure Glory is alright, Deacon walks in on Sole explaining to Glory how they saved her.

“Remember Curie?” Sole asks. “I know you weren’t happy about donating your friend’s body for her, but it’s thanks to Curie you’re alive.”

“Really?” Glory asks. “She made that mystery serum you gave me, then?”

“Sort of,” Sole nods. “Long story, but basically I got my hands on some, uh... potent medicinal chemicals, and I let Curie experiment with them and she made  _ that. _ That was the only one we had, because my, um,  _ supplier _ didn’t appreciate me letting someone else experiment on it, so I kept it for emergencies only.”

“...Did you give me chems?”

“No, but you don’t want to know what I  _ did _ give you.”

“Riiiight,” Glory says. She shakes her head. “Well. Tell her thanks. You too. Thanks for saving me.”

“We need you around, Glory,” Deacon says, making his way up to her. “I can’t imagine how we’d take down the Institute without you.”

“Gotta get through the Brotherhood first,” Glory reminds. “Now that they have our number, we have to take them down.”

“Yeah,” Deacon says. “Sole, I’ve gotta talk with you about that, when you’ve got the time.”

“Right,” Sole nods.

“But,” Deacon says. “Before I go. Glory, I... know that my word’s worth jack... But almost losing you made me realize. You’re right. We need to focus on saving  _ all _ synths.” He smiles, shaky but certain. “I promise. From now on.  _ All _ synths.”

“I promise too,” Sole says. “And I’ll make sure Deacon keeps his word this time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Glory smiles. “About time you came around.” She grasps Sole’s hand and squeezes. “You make sure he’s not lying to me. If he is, you hold him still so I can kick his ass.”

Sole grins. “Will do.”

Deacon shakes his head, still smiling, and steps away. And keeps walking. He finds a calm, quiet place and sits down, pulling off his sunglasses to bury his face in his hand.

“Do you not call this a victory?”

Deacon looks up, eyes wide and wet. “What the hell, Farmer?”

Farmer frowns down at him. “You won. She survived. You made your choice without the Sole Survivor making it for you. Is that not a victory?”

Deacon stands up and scowls. “If it weren’t for Sole, she’d be dead. I didn’t do anything. I was about to let her die.”

“Does the result not outweigh the process?” Farmer asks. “I don’t understand why you are upset.”

“You  _ knew _ this would happen!” Deacon shouts. “You knew! Did you know the others were going to die before it happened? Are— Are you doing this on  _ purpose? _ Are you trying to get rid of everyone I ever grow attached to?”

Shadows shift, the world creaks, and Farmer scowls back at Deacon. “Don’t insult me, angel. You know I am not hands-on in leading to change. Don’t direct your anger at me for merely warning you of a would-be pattern.”

“...Right,” Deacon slumps his shoulders, holding his sunglasses by his side. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be pissed at you.  _ I’m _ the problem here. I should have done something, and I didn’t. I needed Sole to do something for me.”

Farmer steps up to Deacon and reaches up to stroke his cheek, prompting Deacon to look up at him. “You always were one to show your emotions with your eyes... But be grateful. On other timelines, she would not have lived, and you would not have known until it was too late. On this one, you have time not to repeat the mistakes of today.”

Deacon smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, if Sole and I die in a Vertibird crash later...”

“Then I will see you again when you revive from the ashes.”

“Charming. This is why I love you.”

Farmer chuckles. “Do you now...?”

“Would  _ I _ lie to  _ you?” _

“You have. Many a time.”

“And you keep coming back.”

“You’re charming,” Farmer replies. “That’s why I love you.”

Deacon grins. “Meet me after we take down the Prydwen. I’m going to need to destress after.”

“Of course.”

“And one last thing before you go?”

“Yes?”

“Are those ‘potent medicinal chemicals’ Sole used by any chance the blood of someone turned immortal by an eldritch artifact?”

Farmer chuckles and steps backward. “I’ll see you after the Prydwen.”

Deacon grins, his eyes showing his concern. “Great...! See you then!”


	3. The Intimacy of Being Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Sole making so many changes, Deacon wonders how much his efforts are really needed. Farmer helps Deacon unwind.

The Prydwen does not go down in the red glare of explosives.

Deacon’s head is still whirling as he tries to recover his land legs. He hasn’t flown in so,  _ so _ long. Heights are a nightmare on their own, for someone afraid to fall, but he’s downright  _ nauseous. _

Both from the flight, and how Sole chose to handle the situation.

Paladin Danse, of all people. A synth who didn’t know it, saved by Sole when Deacon wasn’t looking, and who Sole convinced to lend his knowledge to the Minutemen. The  _ Minutemen. _ And to return the favor, Paladin— No,  _ General _ Danse, gave Sole everything they needed that when they flew the Vertibird up to the Prydwen...

Sole... managed to convince them to leave.

It’s a change. Deacon’s not sure if it’s a  _ good _ change. Maybe he’s been too single-minded with his Railroad work, that he can’t suss out where on the scale this move lands.

And yet, he still feels proud of Sole. Whatever they did or said, it worked, and people didn’t have to die.  _ His _ people didn’t have to die. 

Sole waits until Deacon looks a little less green and invites him to go back to Sanctuary, where everyone will be waiting.

“Everyone?” Deacon asks, flashing a grin as his eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses, show confusion. “Are we having a party?”

They’re having a party.

The number of people there makes Deacon self-conscious, but he hides it and mingles, cracking the occasional joke but otherwise keeping to the side to observe and eat some of the free food.

Sole retells the story of meeting Codsworth again after so long, with Codsworth interjecting where appropriate of how happy he was to see “Mum” again, and Sole says how that’s when they decided gender wasn’t for them and asked Codsworth for a haircut before anything else. Cait, with Curie hanging on her arm, makes a crack about if that’s why Sole always wears that hat.

Codsworth might as well be blushing as he explains that he hadn’t had practice cutting hair in quite some time. Deacon’s grateful his current face is bald.

Danse is there, seemingly pals with Garvey... Deacon takes a second, closer glance. Seemingly holding hands with Garvey.  _ Interesting. _

Piper and her little sister are to the side, meeting little Duncan MacCready who RJ MacCready seems so proud to show off.

The barking of Dogmeat heralds Valentine and Hancock’s arrival, fashionably late which Valentine explains as a case running late while Hancock says he was busy getting enough booze for the party.

As soon as someone takes the crate of alcohol, Hancock goes up to Sole, pulls them into a hug, and smirks at Danse from across the way now that Sole can’t see.

Deacon smirks a little himself. He may not be “friends” with any of them, but he can appreciate a bit of a well-deserved one-upping.

He glances up to see Valentine headed his way, and he looks for the nearest retreat.

“Deacon,” Valentine greets before Deacon can successfully run. “Good job.”

Deacon tilts his head, expression “neutral”, or so it seems with the fear in his eyes hidden. “Aw, you shouldn’t be telling  _ me _ that. It was all Sole.” He grins. “I mean, unless the credit comes with a reward.” He hums. “Nah, that should go to Sole too. Fair’s fair.”

“Still,” Valentine smiles. “I’m not sure how far Sole could have gotten without your encouragement.”

“You kidding?” Deacon asks. He motions around the party. “Look at this. They’ve been making friends without me. I’ve given a few suggestions here and there, but this is all  _ them. _ They’re the one doing great things. It’s...” He rubs the back of his neck and frowns. “It makes me feel like they didn’t need me after all...”

Valentine shakes his head. “You don’t know that. You may have been following them around when they first left the vault—”

“Pfft, whaaaat?” Deacon laughs. “Me? What makes you say that?”

Valentine rolls his eyes.  _ “But, _ you didn’t travel with them until after they went through a lot of turmoil trying to find their son. The things they were doing, and the kind of person they could have become... You gave them a cause to focus on. You helped point their moral compass the right way and all of  _ this,” _ he motions at the party, “is them following your lead to be better. To  _ do _ better. They want to help people. You should be  _ proud.” _

“...Huh.” Deacon tilts his head, glancing towards Sole dancing with Hancock and Dogmeat jumping around them. “That begs the question... They tell you anything I may have told them about me?”

“You want me to corroborate on what lies you told them versus what lies you told me?” Valentine shakes his head. “They told me the one thing they believe you said was completely true. That you’re in their corner. And seeing this? Seeing how they treat people, how they  _ help _ everyone they can? I have a hard time believing anyone here  _ isn’t _ in their corner at this point.”

Deacon thins his lips and looks away... “Yeah... They’re making big changes, aren’t they?” He sees a flash of yellow that isn’t from Valentine’s eyes and looks past him to see a familiar figure ducking out of sight. He grins and pats Valentine’s arm. “Well. Thanks, Nick. You’re right. I  _ should _ be proud. They’re doing a hell of a lot better than I could have ever expected.” He nods towards the excitement. “Hey, why don’t you start mingling. Maybe help remind some of these couples to use protection.”

_ “God,” _ Valentine groans. “I should be glad Ellie couldn’t make it else I’d have to worry about her and Piper too.”

Deacon laughs. “If Sole asks where I went, let ‘em know I have more business to take care of. I’ll catch up with them later.”

“Alright.” Valentine sighs and shakes his head. “You stay safe out there.”

“Mm-hmm. No plans on dying yet.” Deacon clicks his tongue and points a pair of finger guns. He walks past Valentine and then turns on his heel to wave good-bye one final time before hurrying off after a certain stranger.

He slips into what seems to be an unclaimed home, and Farmer pulls him into his arms.

“They’re bringing change,” Farmer smiles. “Far more than I expected.”

“Ooh, someone’s frisky,” Deacon grins. “Don’t I normally have to invite you to get handsy with me, Mr. Farmer?”

Farmer kisses him and smiles against his lips. “I can make an exception.”

“Real slick of you, sneaking around while your favorite detective’s back was turned.”

“Let him chase me another time. My attention right now is for you.”

“And I  _ do _ need attention,” Deacon chuckles. He pulls Farmer towards the bedroom. “I need to unwind. It’s way too stressful being human.”

“I don’t envy your efforts, my dear.”

They reach the bedroom, and time outside that one room freezes, all pretense of disguise forsaken in favor of a moment together...

...At the end of the day, the two of them are merely poorly pretending to be human, even if Deacon has much more practice on this stage having spent so long living amongst mortal beings. At the end of the day, the two of them are two sides of coins in different denominations from different currencies.

Farmer’s side of things has existed beyond time and space. The eldritch, as the name was coined, in their unknowable intentions for the world. Deacon’s side, on the other hand, is more in line with the concept of gods and angels, but not quite the same. It’s close, but a few degrees shy of the right angle.

Either way, at the end of the day, Deacon’s side has abandoned the world and, he fears, him as well. At the end of the day, Farmer is selfish and cunning and unwilling to share the Earth with any others on his side.

But they’re willing to have each other.

Deacon drags Farmer onto the bed, already kissing him. Already inviting him for more. Farmer takes in the taste all while his clothes give way to shadows and the occasional flash of starlight, ready to envelop Deacon whose true form is perhaps even more incomprehensible to humans than any eldritch life.

He looks exactly as he always does to Farmer. Just as handsome and bright with eyes so beautiful he’s thankful for Deacon’s sunglasses keeping others from sharing that treat.

Deacon reaches out first, perpetually starved of affection despite being closer to the mortals around them. It’s in his nature to exist so close and be so intimate, perverted by the need to keep his secrets, to keep his distance. Farmer knows he’s an open book for him to read. A story old as time with concepts and ideas Farmer found so new and tempting his first time reading. 

He learned love from Deacon. Deacon learned the value of chaos. Deacon smiles at him to remind him to stop reminiscing and open up as well. Naturally, he obliges.

They meld together, a seamless mixture of thoughts and memories, with careful nudges to guide each other to familiar favorites, new experiences, intimate flirting as they progress.

Deacon toys with a particularly attractive scene, of one of their past rendezvous, and Farmer shudders as Deacon snakes in and out. Farmer responds in kind, stroking one of his favorites, of Deacon so insufferably proud of himself for “accidentally” getting in the way of Valentine trying to chase  _ him _ down. Such a devilish thing for Deacon to do, and such a delight to sink into. Deacon glows under the compliment and attention.

They are made of their memories, of their experiences, both good and bad, and it’s so easy to want to take it all in. To see life as the other lived it and know the other in form and foundation. The intimacy of opening up, entering each other, and being known so deeply and so fully...

Spreading open and reaching into every inch, every trench, every nuance in a desperate need to satisfy their craving for the taste of each other. Lingering in with encouraging pulses as they sift through to say yes, take me, love me, memorize every aspect of my being. Who knows if we will get to do this again? Know me as I am now, remember me as I am now, for who knows what I may be tomorrow.

So full of each other, of the thrill and stimulation, they’re both at the edge of existence and ready to burst.

They kiss, as tendrils and hands both grope through the light and dark to caress the warmth of their bodies. They hold on to each other as they both let go. The bed calls them back to the present, exposed to each other and in each other’s arms.

Deacon laughs as Farmer starts to kiss down his neck. “Still not satisfied, huh?”

“I could never have enough of you,” Farmer growls against his skin. “If you joined my side...” He draws Deacon close. “I’d share the world with you. You’d be the exception. Always my one exception...”

“Aww, look who’s been practicing romance,” Deacon chuckles. “Maybe one day. Not yet. We’re not done yet.” He wraps his arms around Farmer’s back and digs in, and Farmer lets out an encouraging growl. “I’m not done with  _ you _ yet.”

“Then by all means...” Another hungry kiss. “We have all the time we need.”


End file.
